


You Turn My Gray Skies Blue

by doctorsimmonswilson



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fitz keeps it all together, Fluff, Good Dad Leo Fitz, Happy Birthday Leo Fitz, Kid Fic, Misunderstandings, Totally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorsimmonswilson/pseuds/doctorsimmonswilson
Summary: Poor Fitz can’t seem to do anything this rainy day; his wife is nowhere to be found and his kids are rather difficult creatures in the morning.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	You Turn My Gray Skies Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Leopold James Fitz!!
> 
> I wrote this piece before the finale but of course changed Alya’s name. This is some random little silly thing I wrote but it’s rather cute.
> 
> Enjoy!

Fitz wakes up to the most irritating of sounds— his alarm clock. He opens his eyes blearily, presses the snooze button, and rolls over. He reaches for Jemma, but he only feels empty sheets. He makes a real attempt at seeing this time, rubbing his eyes.

Fitz figures she’s gone downstairs already; ever the early riser. He drags himself out of bed, slipping on a pair of incredibly soft and well-worn slippers, trudging around the bed to their bathroom. No Jemma in sight. 

After a quick brushing of his teeth, Fitz slips out of their room into the hall. He checks his watch, _5:42_ it reads back to him. He can’t imagine Jemma was up much earlier. So he reckons she’s downstairs, and begrudgingly dresses himself for the day. 

When Fitz finally makes it downstairs to start the kettle, he still sees no Jemma. He looks around for a note, checks the bathroom, runs back upstairs to check his phone, but nothing. Fitz’s anxiety increases, so he rings her phone. _Hello, you’ve reached Jemma Simmons, please leave a message!_

“Hey Jem, just wondering where you are at six in the morning, and why you’re not in our bed. Okay, let me know. Love you.” He hangs up the voicemail, sighing. She’d probably ran to the supermarket for lunch that week or something of the like. No reason to worry. He shrugs it off.

Fitz entertains himself for the next two hours by fixing himself tea and a slice of toast, then catching up on the Man U game he missed due to whatever children's program was on last night. Then, he realizes he has to get the kids up for school.

He decides to get James up first because he takes after Jemma, and will have a million and one questions before breakfast and takes after Fitz and will scarf down said breakfast. He knocks softly on the door.

“James,” he gently shakes his son’s small form, “it’s time to get up.” The three-year-old opens his eyes behind thick eyelashes. 

“Daddy, I don’t feel good.” Fitz sighs. He’s not playing this game this particular morning. Work’s got him scunnered almost every night, and he can’t find his wife. 

“James, you have to get up, okay? We can have Chocolate Shreddies for breakfast. But I need you up out of bed,” Fitz prays to no one in particular that the child agrees.

“‘M not hungry.” Fitz kneels beside the bed, and places his lips to his son’s forehead. 

“You’re a wee bit warm. I’ll get the thermometer,” Fitz whispers. He swipes the thing from the bathroom, then brings it back. After confirming his son is indeed running a rather hot temperature, he lets him sleep for a bit longer.

“Alya, sweetheart, it’s time to get up for school,” Fitz knocks on his daughter’s door this time. He curses himself for passing his aversion to mornings into her. 

“Alya, Daddy is very tired. Can you be downstairs in a few minutes with your uniform on, please? Can you do that for me?” A small nod comes from under the covers, and Fitz closes the door over. 

Ten minutes later, Fitz has somehow wrangled both his children down into the kitchen for breakfast. As promised, there’s Chocolate Shreddies(Jemma will kill him), and half an orange each. Alya happily gobbles down her meal, while James pokes at the cereal with his spoon, and has a single orange slice. 

“Is it your stomach that hurts, love?” Fitz frowns. 

James nods, “And m’head.” Fitz lets out a sigh, beginning to clean up their breakfast. 

“Daddy, it’s raining! Can I go jump in the puddles?” Alya smiles brightly. Fitz looks out the glass doors leading to their yard.

“Not today, Alya. We will have to find your wellies though,” Fitz glances at his watch. “Okay, you go grab your backpack, and I will find your shoes. James, you come with me.” 

The two Fitz(one Fitz-Simmons) boys scavenge around the house, but no purple wellies are to be found. Fitz groans, because he can’t make her much later for school. He settles for having her throw on an old pair of tennis shoes and moves on. 

“Let’s go,” Fitz has one hand in Alya’s, the other holding James in a way he is now much too big for. He lets go of Alya for a moment, locks the door behind him, then gets both kids buckled into the car. He pulls out his phone, clicking Jemma’s name.

“Hey Jemma, it’s me again. I’m in the car with the kids for school. James is running a fever. Please call me back,” before he hangs up there’s a chorus of “Hi Mummy!” from the back.

Fitz successfully makes it to Alya’s school without major disaster, and he drops her off.

“Sorry we’re late,” he apologizes to the woman who’s come out to collect his daughter, “we couldn’t find our wellies, and her brother is coming down with something.”

“Ah, is no’ a problem. My granddaughter had a bad cold last week,” the woman winks. Fitz kisses his daughter’s cheek.

“Love you Lee,” he whispers. 

“Bye Daddy!” she gives him a toothy grin. Fitz watches her enter the building, and quickly escapes with his umbrella to the car. Knowing he is never making it to work today, he calls in, and drives home.

Fitz and James spend the remainder of the morning watching some cartoon that Fitz can’t stand, and Fitz tries to coax his son into nibbling on something. He lets James sleep for a decent bit, and he answers emails. He debates whether to leave Jemma another voicemail or not.

At some point, he realizes that his wife is still AWOL, and he’s been going on autopilot for the day. His worry turned into frustration and now anger. Why did she leave without a note or a text? Where is she? 

_“Hello, you’ve reached Jemma Sim-“_

“Oh for the love of- I need to know whe-“ Fitz stops himself before he wakes the boy sleeping peacefully on the sofa.

“Jemma, please, please answer me. I need to know where you are. This isn’t funny, call me back.” He leaves the third message, just hoping he’ll get an answer in some shape or form.

When Alya’s school day is over, he and James pick her up. 

“-and I got to choose which color notebook I could use as my writing notebook. I chose blue because mummy loves blue, and blue is the color of the sky. I think that green would be my second choice because…” Fitz nods along as he straps her into her seat. 

He loves his daughter and everything she has to say, but she is her mother’s daughter too, and never stops talking. Ever. 

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart. How about you show me at home, yea?” Alya claps excitedly, and even James nods. Fitz grins, happy to appease both of his spawn at once.

They arrive at home shortly, and Alya puts on a whole show about her notebooks, for which her brother and father are a dutiful audience. Once she’s finished, James lays on a sofa, Alya does her maths homework, and Fitz leaves Jemma sixteen text messages. Bloody woman.

Fitz is in the kitchen when he hears the door open, and he rushes to it. Jemma is standing there, deathly pale no less, and he can’t help but wrap his arms around her. The children wave hi to their mummy, but continue on with their happenings.

Fitz reluctantly pulls away, “What the bloody hell, Jemma? You- you can’t do this. I had no idea if- where were you?” 

“Funny story,” Jemma grins sheepishly, “I realized I had forgotten my phone at work yesterday, so I went and drove there before you woke up because I was up. I was exhausted, so I fell asleep at my desk. All bloody day. I’m so sorry, Fitz. I think I’m coming down with something.” Her voice is drowsy and Fitz notices her red-rimmed eyes and chapped lips.

“James too. God, Jem. I- please be more careful next time.”

“I know,” she sniffs, “gosh, I’m a right awful person. Who falls asleep at their desk all day and leaves their husband to the wolves- or worse- their children? I feel awful. Like a right idiot.” 

“They’re all you so they’re perfect angels,” Fitz presses a kiss to her lips, desperate to feel close to her, “and you’re not awful. All is forgiven if you watch James tomorrow. You can be ill together.”

“Fitz,” Jemma leans into his chest, “sorry for being an idiot. Love you.”

“Love you too, idiot. Now go lay on the sofa before I catch whatever you’ve got.”


End file.
